


Keith, Patron Saint of Sad Nerds

by gingayellow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Keith is a bad boy with a heart of gold, M/M, Shiro is a stressed out grad student on the verge of tears and/or passing out, so not too much of a difference from canon but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13792158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingayellow/pseuds/gingayellow
Summary: Keith is a Bad Boy with a Heart of Gold (TM) who runs mechanic shop with his foster brother, Hunk. He's trying to rebuild his family, and sense of self-worth. Shiro is a grad student with his head in the clouds, a CV that desperately needs to be filled up in a year, evil undergrads to teach, and trust issues after a horrible accident that may or may not have been cause by his former academic colleague, Lotor. There are so many reasons why they should not work out. At all. Ever.(Basically, a bunch of Sheith melodrama/fluff)





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Keith, the Patron Saint of Sad Nerds  
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender  
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Keith  
Rating: G  
Disclaimer: Not mine, anything mentioned here by name isn't mine  
Warnings: Smoking?  
Notes: College/grad school AU! This is actually part of “Family,” but you don’t need to read that to read this. 

\--

“Remind me again why I’m agreeing to go to a nerd party?” Keith grumbled as he parked his motorcycle, then removed his helmet.

“First off, they prefer the term ‘Physics Club meet and greet,’” Hunk informed him primly as he stepped off the bike. He unzipped his backpack, removed his own helmet and sighed in relief when he saw that the plastic container of cookies was unharmed. “And your former foster brother is in his first semester of college ever, and needs to make good connections.”

Keith let out a short bark of laughter. “Just leave your contact info by the cookies. You’ll get connections—and marriage proposals.”

Hunk rolled his eyes, and while Keith was not a fan of social interaction in anyway, he had to admire Hunk right now. While he was too timid for his own good sometimes, when it came to what he was passionate about—cooking, baking, building things—he had more ambition than anyone.

Of course, Keith probably would have just given him bus fare, except that Ms. Henny asked. Ms. Henny, who was his very last foster mother, but let him live with her and Hunk even after he aged out of the system, and helped find a full scholarship for college. She was the closest thing Keith had to a mother, so when she asked for something, Keith delivered.

But sheesh, for a bunch of nerds there were loud… 

“Hey, Keith.” Hunk was smiling gently. “Ya know, you could go home. I’ll call you when I’m partied out.”

Keith shook his head. “Ms. Henny is worried you’ll drink a beer, and fall into a life of sin and woe. I’m here to guard both your mortality and your morality.” Her words, not Keith’s.

Hunk groaned. “Ugh. Moms. Whelp, we’ll find you a nice quiet corner to chill in.”

\--

There were no quiet corners.

There were, however, a bunch of college students in anime and/or shirts with reference jokes Keith didn’t get yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. All laughing. And yelling over the laughing.

It’d gotten well past the point where it was ‘only’ getting under Keith’s skin. Every time he heard a laugh, he flinched. He tried to keep his focus on Hunk, who was talking to some ugly boy in a jacket—

Someone shrieked _LIVE A LITTLE FROWNY FACE_ in his ear. And it was a good thing for them that he was too rattled to do anything, because otherwise he would have whipped out his pocketknife.

He already had his hand on it, buried deep in his jacket pocket.

Keith took a deep breath. He wasn’t like that, not anymore. He was shaky, but he would keep an eye on Hunk, because he was a man with responsibilities and duties, he wasn’t—

“Keith.” Hunk’s voice was soft. “Let’s go home.” 

Keith wasn’t up to taking, so he shook his head.

“It’s fine, man. Lance promised me he’d text me anything I need to know.” He placed a warm hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You head out. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

\--

Ms. Henny was probably gonna kick Keith’s butt, but he really, really needed a smoke.

He could already hear her voice as he took a long drag. _I’m not mad, I’m disappointed. Those things kill you slowly. Do you want to die, Keith?_

No, of course not. But in that year he’d been completely on his own, it’d been… very important that he looked like a grown up as much as possible, not a scared fifteen-year-old. Smoking helped with that. Unfortunately, it was also addictive. He’d mostly quit, but sometimes, when he was really stressed, it was all that helped.

He was relaxed enough to hear the crying, at least.

Keith stuffed his hands in his black leather jacket, leaves crunching under his boots. There was a scrawny guy with messy hair, and a big guy with super ugly hair. There were both hovering over an old car with the roof popped, weeping openly. Keith wasn’t quite sure why, but the scrawny guy was saying something about missing the academic conference this weekend.

Oh. Well, far be it from Keith to stop nerd from going to nerd places. “Yo.” He waved a gloved hand. “You two need help?” His hair was getting in his eyes, so he ran his hands through it once.

Both guys stilled, and that person from earlier must’ve screamed in Keith’s ear louder than he realized, because there was no way they had both breathed in unison, _He’s so cool._

“Um, yes, thank you.” The big guy held out a hand—and now that Keith was closer, he realized it was a prosthetic. He vaguely remembered Hunk talking about how there was this new prosthetic model made by Sam Holt, one of the greatest minds at Galaxy Garrison, as he shook the big guy’s metal hand. “I’m Takashi Shirogane, but everyone calls me Shiro. This is my friend, Matt Holt.”

“Pleasure.” Keith took one last drag, and then ground the cigarette under his heel—and did Shiro just squeak? Whatever. He was probably stressed about making that conference. “Anyways, lemme peek under that hood.” 

He gave it the standard look over. Yep, basic problem, but if you didn’t work with cars like Keith and Hunk did, you were probably gonna miss it. 

“Try it now.” Matt hopped in the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the car came to life.

His work done, Keith began to leave—but Shiro told him to please wait. “I need to thank you.”

Keith shrugged. “I fixed your car. That’s what anyone with the right skills would do.”

Shiro huffed. “I know, but. You also saved our academic plans for the weekend. I really want to do something for you.”

Keith eyed the car. He’d fixed it, but it was still old, and loud. “You could, for my peace of mind, stop by the garage my brother Hunk and I run.” He gave Shiro a business card—he wasn’t a salesman, but he’d been working with Hunk and Ms. Henny for almost four years now. He knew when he needed to do this. “I’ll give you a discount.” If only because he doubted that car hadn’t seen a mechanic in decades.

Shiro smiled brilliantly as he said it was a date, and Keith found himself smiling back. The car rumbled, and left the parking lot.

“Hey, man.” Hunk clapped Keith on the shoulder. “You feelin’ better?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah. And thanks. I know you didn’t want to leave.”

“No, but I don’t want my brother to have a panic attack, either.” Hunk eased himself behind Keith, and caught the spare helmet Keith tossed him. “C’mon. I bet Mom kept the spaghetti warm for us.”

\--

“Talk about good luck,” Matt said, only slightly ashamed he’d wept openly in front of a stranger. This conference was super important to their research (and CVs), after all. If they didn’t make it, they could kiss looking even vaguely competitive when they both eventually applied to schools for full time teaching and/or research positions good-bye. All that time in grad school would be for nothing. “That guy was like an angel, even if he was all in black leather.”

“Yeah,” Shiro whispered, eyes fixed on the scenery.

“We never did get his name,” Matt mused. Shoot.

Shiro took a card out of his shirt pocket. “Well, he said his brother’s name is Hunk, so I guess he’s Keith Kogane.”

“Keith Kogane? Man, even his name is—”

Shiro said _beautiful_ as Matt said _so cool_.

Matt made it a point to ignore that, because Shiro was allowed to have a crush, sheesh. And the accident has been a year ago. But that accident had eroded so much of Shiro’s ability to let himself be, let himself be vulnerable, that as cool as Keith Kogane was, if he hurt Shiro, Matt was going to kick his butt.

\--

Final Notes: Henny, btw, is Hunk’s mom, and Keith’s last foster mom before he aged out of the system. She bonded with him, so he stuck around even after he was a legal adult. She’s also helped him find a job/get into school. She has tried to get him to call her Mom (or at least Henny), but Keith is just too formal.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Keith, the Patron Saint of Sad Nerds (2/?)  
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender  
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Keith  
Rating: G  
Disclaimer: Not mine, anything mentioned here by name isn't mine  
Warnings: Smoking?  
Notes: Guess what, this is just boring talking. ;P I probably made some mistakes, but I'm nursing a migraine, so I will try to remember to fix them later. :( And yes, the Hunkyard is a reference to the 2011 Voltron Force series. ;P

\--

The past two years of Shiro’s life were going to be for nothing.

The accident had killed his dream of being an astronaut. But he could still research, and learn. He could teach and inspire young people who might become astronauts themselves. Which was why he went for his PhD, and was waist deep in projects and conferences across state lines—including one that was integral to his eventual dissertation. His career was on the line. What was left of his dream was on the line.

And then the car broke down, and it took everything Shiro had not to break down with it.

That was when the angel saved him.

He didn’t look like one. Leather jacket, tight jeans, and the aroma of cigarette smoke—everything about him screamed danger,and mystery. But when he smiled up at Shiro, it was the gentlest thing Shiro had experienced for a long time. And he fixed what had been a dead car without even trying.

And his hair was as dark as the night sky, and he had eyes that could pierce your soul.

The conference went by in a blur of coffee, AV failures, and networking. But when Shiro finally settled down to sleep in the hotel he and Matt paid for together, he only saw leather and indigo eyes.

\--

Shiro stretched out just enough with his left arm to turn off his phone alarm. He glared blearily at his phone notifications. A meeting, two conferences, teaching, and a seminar that night. Typical Tuesday. There were also some emails from students that assured him they understood that he didn’t accept late work, but sure he’d make an exception just this once?

He huffed, put down his phone, and went off in the direction of the shower, his prosthetic, then his clothes. It was going to be a long day. Might as well get it started. 

\--

The day was every bit as exhausting as Shiro had predicted. His first conference was with his student who always played on his phone during class, and the conference was every bit as frustrating as when he “gently reminded” him about the technology policy. The second conference was with a student who was balancing school with raising her son. She was smart, engaged, and a joy to teach—but she had to leave early when the school called her to let her know her son had thrown up, and needed to go home. The rest of the conference was a rush to make sure she knew what she needed to study for the next test, and that she didn’t forget her car keys. Then he got to hear Dr. Smythe tell him that his research was a _good start_ , but he could do a little more, couldn’t he? Surely Shiro wanted to be competitive.

He was scrounging for change in his pockets for a soda for lunch before class when he found the business card instead. _The Hunkyard. Family owned. Keith Kogane and Hunk Garrett._

Shiro felt dizzy, and maybe not just from the fact that he had brilliantly skipped breakfast. Keith. The young man who looked like he could do whatever he wanted to you, but was kind deep down. And Shiro had a good excuse to see him again… but what would someone like Keith, confident and attractive and owning a business want anything to do with a grad student drowning in debt who went home to ramen and Star Trek reruns.

Then again, the only human interaction he’d outside of work was Matt (who was a fellow grad student), so. What could it hurt.

\--

Shiro had wanted to dress nice, but the closest thing he had to Nice Clothes were also Work Clothes—and if they got even a little grease on them, they would be no good. As much as he liked Keith, he also liked having one good pair of trousers and button-down shirts that fit him. She he opted for jeans and a plain black shirt, with a grey cardigan. Hopefully, his image was ‘attractive but not trying to impress a cute guy.’ 

Shiro parked his car. Oh gosh, there was someone working in the office. The office window blinds were closed, but he could hear a voice. Maybe it was Keith. Maybe he’d finally get to see what Keith’s hair looked like in the sunlight.

“Um, excuse me!” He hated that he sounded so eager, but oh well. “I was hoping to get a tune up?”

A stocky, cheerful looking young man greeted him. “Hi.” He waved. “I’m Hunk.”

“… Oh.” Shiro did his best to hide his disappointment. This Hunk seemed nice, and it wasn’t his fault that Shiro was acting like a lovestruck kid. “You must be Hunk.” He sighed with relief internally when Hunk didn’t flinch at the prosthetic. “I like the pun, by the way.”

“Thanks! Although I’ll tell you the real reason I went with the name: it makes my big brother groan every time someone says it.”

“Ugh.” 

Hunk smirked as Keith—in grey overalls, but still moving with a warrior’s grace—joined the conversation. “Yeah, see?”

Keith gave Hunk a look. “Are you going to spend your whole life annoying me?”

Hunk smiled at Keith angelically. “I’m your younger brother, so. Yes. It’s my sacred duty.” 

Keith poked Hunk. “Go get the forms. I’ll help out Shiro here.”

“Ya sure, man? Usually you don’t like—”

“I’m sure.” There was a hint of steel in Keith’s voice that had not been there before. Hunk shrugged, and returned to the tiny office.

“Sometimes I don’t do well around people,” Keith explained after Hunk left. His tone was still direct, but Shiro had heard enough _I’m sorry, I honestly forgot we had an assignment today_ explanations enough to tell when someone was embarrassed. “Hunk means well, but sometimes he goes overboard.”

“It’s fine. I don’t do really well around crowds myself.” So, of course, he was a TA at a big school. “So,” and wow, he hoped he looked cool as he rested against his car. “Whaddya think this is gonna cost me, Mr. Kogane?”

Keith eyed the car critically. “I guess that depends on what exactly your vehicle needs.” He frowned. “I really don’t feel comfortable with you driving it.”

Shiro shrugged. “It worked after you fixed it. Got me to Nevada and back.” Mind you, it had stalled a few times on the way back, but that wasn’t new.

“Still.” Keith eyed him critically. “Whelp, you go wait in the office. I’m gonna get started.”

“So, you work at Galaxy Garrison?” Hunk gave him a sly look.

Shiro smiled at Hunk. “Yep. I’m a TA in the Astrophysics department.”

“Woah,” Hunk breathed. “That means you’re probably helping getting that shuttle to Kerberos, right?”

“… Yes.” It was still a touchy subject, but he’d dealt with it. Really. As long as he got to work on the mission, it didn’t matter if he set foot on Kerberos or not. “I run some equations.” To his surprise/delight, Hunk asked him about said equations—and they chatted about the technical aspects of shuttle flight. It was strange (but nice) to talk nerd stuff outside of work. 

He also learned more about Keith’s brother. Hunk was going to the local community college, but was considering transferring to Galaxy Garrison or Altea University one day (probably Altea, since it was cheaper). He wanted to be an engineer, but was trying to make friends in any and all STEM fields, since they lived in one of the smaller towns nearby the Garrison, and there weren’t many people who liked what Hunk liked.

“I know that feeling,” Shiro assured him. “I grew up in a small town in Japan. I think my grandfather nearly had a heart attack laughing when I told him I was going to be an a—in a career involving the sciences.” When Hunk looked at shocked at the idea any grandfather would do that, Shiro shrugged. “We were… a very old-fashioned town. But he also bought me a telescope for my birthday after that, so I think he eventually accepted it.”

Still, even if his grandfather had come around, Shiro knew how hard it was to enter academia if you weren’t wealthy. And Hunk was every bit as kind as his brother, and Shiro liked helping people. “Anyways, if you need any help getting started, let me know.”

Hunk gave him an innocent look. “Can you get me into that talk Professor Smythe is giving next week?”

“Professor Smythe is my chair, and he’s the ultimate extrovert, so of course. Give me your number, and—”

Hunk bolted past Shiro, forced the window open, and stuck his head outside. “ ** _KEITH SHIRO IS NOW BOTH MY AND YOUR BEST FRIEND SO YOU BETTER BE NICE TO HIM_** ”

Keith…oh good heavens, Keith was **smirking** at **Shiro** , and there was something dark and amused in his eyes, like he was enjoying making Shiro squirm…

Shiro hid his face in his hands.

\--

“Here’s your estimate,” Keith informed him as he handed Shiro a slip of paper.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t bad (the discount helped), but he also wasn’t going to be eating out anytime soon. 

“Listen.” Keith was staring up at him levelly. Shiro had only known him for a little while, but he was beginning to realize that this was Keith’s posture when he wanted something. “Again, I’d rather you not drive this car until we can fix it completely. I don't think it's safe, Shiro.”

… But Shiro’s car was all he had. He didn’t live near the bus line, and all Matt had was a bicycle. Maybe—maybe Dr. Holt could drive him to school, but he hated asking—

“Shiro, breathe.” Keith's tone was gentle. “I have an idea. Since Hunk is probably considering proposing to you, how about I drive you and him places?”

“Wouldn’t… wouldn’t we not fit on your motorcycle, though?”

“Hunk’s mom gave him her old car for his eighteenth birthday. Hunk gets pretty bad motion sickness though, so he only drives when he absolutely has to.” There was just a flash of teeth to Keith’s smirk. It gave him a feral look that Keith wore only too well. “I think you’ll both fit.”

“Well, I.” He did not want to inconvenience them. But Keith was right; his car did tend to die a lot. And it was selfish to want people to be his friends, because no one owed him anything, but… Hunk was so nice, and Keith was so cool and kind. He wanted to be around them more, if they’d have him.

He hoped he didn’t look too foolish when he said, “It’s a date, then.”


End file.
